


wear my love like armor

by coramalias



Series: i walked into love with you [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Near Death Experiences, See notes for warnings, because that's a legit tag, the notebook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2238654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coramalias/pseuds/coramalias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who's trying to kill us this time, exactly?" Allison asks as nudges the door closed with her hip and leads Malia down the hallway into her room.</p><p> </p><p>Malia drops her bag and pillow unceremoniously onto the floor and plops back on Allison's mattress with a sigh. "Everyone. Literally everyone. Our names are on a deadpool, because why the fuck not."</p><p> </p><p>~~**see notes for more warnings</p>
            </blockquote>





	wear my love like armor

**Author's Note:**

> there's some very VERY brief mentions of violence in regards to, well, everyone, and Isaac has a traumatic experience with a meat freezer but it is NOT DETAILED AT ALL. Still, if this bothers you, do not read. (:

Malia settled backward and stretched, mouth dropping open in a yawn. Her claws flex into view briefly before she clenches her hands into fists and rubs her eyes sleepily. 

Allison had always been fascinated by Malia’s transformation, even when she was still the wary werewolf hunter assessing this new volatile addition to her pack. Her movements always held a sort of fluidity to them. Maybe it was because she was a born this way, or maybe it was because of the many years she spent in the forest becoming intimately familiar with that side of her nature, but either way, it held Allison’s attention like nothing else. 

The others handled themselves differently. Scott has always struggled to hold his animal side back, afraid of hurting anyone and giving up control, which Allison admits she can understand. Isaac tries to present his as an overconfident tyrant, taking and ruining and desperate to be controlled, when in reality his first instincts always tell him to protect instead of to lunge for the jugular. 

And with Derek it’s almost hardly noticeable. The depths of his control pull grudging respect forth from Allison, who to this day has never witnessed a transformation so smooth. Although, it’s still obvious to a careful observer that between the two cousins, Malia is the one more comfortable with her inner animal. Derek let’s himself shift only when the situation demands, whether it be flashing his eyes to convey frustration, in the midst of a battle, or letting his claws out to open one of those industrial strength plastic earbud packages after Stiles has kissed him into hesitant agreement. Malia, on the other hand, shifts without even noticing. She clicks her claws together when she’s anxious, her eyes flash when someone mentions going out for fast food, and her teeth drop whenever she and Isaac end up in an inevitable argument whenever they watch football games, no matter who’s playing. 

"I’m going to go to sleep now." Malia insists, a determined expression crossing her face despite her exhausted and heavy tone. 

Allison sighs. She rubs soothing circles on Malia’s hand with her thumb where they lay joined under the blanket. They both had been fully dressed, Allison in old jeans (who weren’t actually _old_ so much as stained with blood beyond repair) and obligatory Beacon Hills Pack Leather Jacket (tm), where Malia had changed into pajama pants and a large T-Shirt about fifteen minutes ago. They were waiting to see if Kira, Lydia, and Scott would call for backup. For the past three days the whole pack has been trying to track down a family of wendigos who recently abandoned all human pretenses and began massacres. It was Allison’s turn to sleep (and Malia’s, who, predictably, has insisted to take the same schedule as Allison), but Scott  & Co. had caught a new lead and asked Allison and Malia to be on standby and prepared. 

"You can," Allison murmured, fully aware of the fact that Malia had been awake for the past 50 hours, while Allison had managed to catch a few hours of sleep the day before, "I’ll stay awake." 

"Thanks," she slurred, eyes already sliding closed as she reached out toward Allison. Her arms wrapped sneakily around Allison’s waist and her hands gripped the fabric of her jacket tightly. Allison was only too happy to oblige, nudging Malia so that her head lay on Allison’s collarbone and Allison was able to reach around her to run her hand up, down, and up again across the skin of her back. 

"Text Stiles right now and tell him that I hate him so much for keeping me from this and instead making me chase false homicide leads all over town." 

Allison laughs, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Instead, she gently maneuvers her hand to the counter and grabs her phone, quickly relaying her girlfriend’s message to Stiles as the breath brushing across the skin of her neck slowly evens out into unconsciousness. 

*** 

The next Saturday, after the wendigos have successfully been taken care of and life resumes some sense of normalcy, Malia shows up at Allison’s apartment.

"Hey," Allison says with an attempted casual tone, leaning against the doorway and studiously ignoring how Malia can probably hear her suddenly elevated heartbeat. 

"Someone's trying to kill us all again." 

It says a lot about the past two years that Allison finds it more odd that Malia has a pillow under her arm. 

"Sleepover?" Allison asks, raising her eyebrow carefully. "Why not at your house?" 

Malia shrugs and shuffles her feet in a nervous gesture that Allison absolutely does not find adorable. 

"I'd prefer to keep my dad out of this. I don't want him getting hurt because of me." 

Allison's gaze softens in understanding. She reaches out to loosely grasp Malia's arm, sliding down to her hand and linking their fingers together, enjoying the feel of goosebumps pebbling under her touch. She smiles and tugs Malia inside through the open door. 

"Who's trying to kill us this time, exactly?" Allison asks as nudges the door closed with her hip and leads Malia down the hallway into her room. 

Malia drops her bag and pillow unceremoniously onto the floor and plops back on Allison's mattress with a sigh. "Everyone. Literally everyone. Our names are on a deadpool, because why the fuck not." 

Allison hums thoughtfully. "How exactly did we find this deadpool, again?" 

Malia stiffens. She takes a deep breath, then slowly sits up to look Allison in the eye instead of at the ceiling. 

"Lydia found it. Her grandmother-" 

"-had a room designed for banshees in her lake house, yeah. She told me. She forgot to mention a deadpool, though." 

Malia looked at her feet, wringing her hands roughly, claws coming out and pricking her skin. "She didn't even know what it meant until today. She needed a key, a key to crack a code of numbers and letters." 

Malia paused, and Allison carefully sat down beside her, bumping their shoulders together and waiting for her to continue. 

"It was you," Malia rasps, words leaving her in a rush, "your name. Stiles has been staying with Lydia for the past three days trying to help her figure it out, they didn't even want to tell me what was going on, they were afraid I was going to lose control. Why would I? I mean, it's not like my girlfriend's name is the key to crack the code of a deadpool, or like the keys are supposed to only be solved by a banshee, which means... which means..." 

"Lydia's not just cracking the code, she's predicting my death." Allison finishes for her, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts herself. 

"Lydia insists that she's not, but I know she doesn't really believe what she's saying, she's got this look in her eyes like she's just quietly panicking for the sake of everyone else, and that's nerve-wracking in of itself-" 

"Malia, it's ok," Allison murmurs, ducking her head under Malia's arm and curling herself against her side, "I'm right here. I don't plan on going anywhere soon, and besides, now that we know it could be a possibility, we can prevent it." 

Malia relaxes slightly and runs her fingers through Allison's hair methodically. "Ok," she breathes, resting her cheek against the top of Allison's head." 

"Cool," Allison whispers, pressing a kiss against her girlfriend's throat and letting her hair fan out around her, pretending that it can shield them from the world. 

*** 

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, _fuckingdammitmotherfuker_." Stiles spits out, clenching his fists tightly in his lap. 

"Yeah," Derek agrees, hands preoccupied by soothingly massaging Lydia and Stiles's backs, the two settled closely on either side of him, "you would think I've already exceeded my quota of near-death experiences for a while." 

"You're not dying," Stiles seethes, eyes lingering on every member of the pack present, challenging them to argue with him, "and neither is Allison." 

Allison smiles. "Thanks for the solidarity, Stiles." 

Stiles' furious expression breaks momentarily and he turns to her, a genuine grin coming forth, one of the few Malia has ever seen. "Anytime. Us humans gotta stuck together, right?" 

Allison rolls her eyes, yet accepts Stiles' enthusiastic fist bump when he offers. 

"We need to find Satomi's pack," Derek interjects, trying to turn the conversation onto a more serious path, "she's an old friend of my mother's. Her pack will be vulnerable, too, and we need all the help we can get." 

Lydia pauses at the mention of Derek's mother, swiftly pecking a kiss to his cheek before resting against his shoulder and considering his plan. "It might be a good idea. Where might we find her?" 

"She and her pack retreated deep into the woods a long time ago. Scott might be able to find them by following instinct and senses, or Malia." 

"Why me?" Malia asks absently from her perch on the loveseat, Allison settled between the V of Malia's legs as she carefully braids Allison's hair. Kira sits next to them, repositioning Malia's fingers when she makes a mistake and smoothing the fly-away strands. 

"You're more familiar with the area, and with your tether to it." 

Malia seems to accept his answer and returns her attention to Allison's hair, but Isaac seems confused. 

"What do you mean, 'tether'?" 

Derek's eyebrows draw together in a thoughtful expression, as if he can't quite find the words to explain himself. After a few moments of silence, Scott interrupts. 

"It's almost like a pack connection, but more territorial. A sixth sense of sorts. It's gotten more noticeable for me since our sacrifice to the Nematon, but it was always there. I just didn't realize what it was until recently." 

"And what _is_ it, exactly?" Isaac persists, craning his head to get a better view of Scott from where he lays sprawled out on the floor behind Derek. 

"It's almost like a discomfort, like a constant itch when someone intrudes on what the wolf part of me considers his territory. It's instinct." 

"You've missed a strand." Lydia says dryly. Malia snarls at the back of Allison's head in frustration. 

"How offended would you be if I just cut off this little piece of hair?" Malia asks, clicking her claws together in anticipation. 

"That is a certified clump of hair, not a strand," Kira informs Allison. She's seems slightly concerned. 

Allison smiles deviously and twists around so she is face to face with Malia. She reaches one hand up to grasp the side of her throat, tilting her head forward to lock their lips in a kiss that she swiftly nudges Malia's lips open to, pushing forth more pressure and licking her tongue across the ridges of the roof of her mouth. She swallows her startled gasp, rising forward to her knees and pressing herself firmly close to her. Her hand sneaks it's way from Malia's neck to her hair, tangling her fingers in the strands and tugging slightly before using the grip to hold her still, drawing her lower lip between her teeth and scraping the skin as she pulls away. 

Malia nods, mouth dropped open and pupils blown. "Got it, not allowed to cut your hair." 

Allison smiles again, softly this time, and presses another, more chaste, kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "You've got it, boo." 

Allison laughs good naturedly as Malia flicks her ear. 

*** 

"I'm not leaving you alone as long as the deadpool's still up, you know that, right?" 

"And after that?" Allison asks, pen between her teeth and a set of crossword puzzles spread out across her lap. 

Malia rolls onto her stomach, kicking her legs in the air and spreading her arms to stretch the entire length of Allison's bed. Allison can see her from the corner of her eye, laying across from Allison's place on the desk chair, which she has claimed as her spot for the past few weeks (or really, ever since they started dating, if Allison's honest with herself). 

"Until you get sick of me," Malia jokes, her tone light but her words striking a sense of discomfort for Allison. 

"I won't," Allison whispers, causing Malia to prop her head up at a ridiculous angle to see Allison properly, "you'll be sick of me long before I'll be sick of you, I promise." 

Malia smiles sadly, lifting herself from the bed and draping herself on top of Allison, knees on either side of her hips and hands braced against the back of her chair. 

"Let's make sure we're both alive long enough to make that decision on our own, yeah?" She murmurs, resting their foreheads together. 

"Yeah," Allison agrees quietly, securing Malia's position by gripping the back of her thighs tightly. 

Malia sighs contentedly, moving one of her hands to rest more comfortably on Allison's shoulder and the other to slide from a caress of her cheek, down her neck, across her collarbone, and onto her heart, smiling when the beat picks up slightly at her touch. 

"We are each other's, okay? I'm going to protect what's mine, and this?" She tightened her grip protectively on Allison's shirt, "You've given this to me for the time being. And nothing is going to hurt you, not while I'm still breathing." 

"Which you will be, for a long time, if I have anything to do about it." 

Malia smiles softly and leans slightly down for a lingering kiss. 

"We'll be okay, I promise." 

*** 

The next three days pass in a haze of sleep deprivation and bloodshed. Stiles is nearly killed by taking a bullet meant for Lydia, Isaac is locked in a meat freezer for twelve hours and nearly catatonic for the next twenty, Kira's mom is beaten to a pulp and admitted to the hospital, Scott is forced to bite one of the new freshmen to save his life, Derek breaks his ribcage twice, and Malia spends an entire day dying of a fatal disease designed specifically for the supernatural. Satomi and her pack have proved impossible to find, even with the teamwork of Malia, Derek, and Scott. 

The thing that frustrates Malia most is that she _remembers_ Satomi. Even in her feral state, she can remember scavenging around the edges of their pack territory, picking off small animals not worth the time of a sane werewolf. 

She remains frustrated by their lack of progress, but grudgingly accepts it. After all, it is kind of difficult to track down another werewolf pack when your own is nearly dying on an hourly basis. 

*** 

It's early Sunday morning when Malia feels it, like someone has injected ice water into her veins. She vaults upward from bed, untangling herself from Allison and scrambling to throw on the nearest pair of shoes, just managing to stick her left foot in her discarded sneaker when Lydia's scream nearly pops her eardrums. 

"Allison!" Malia shouts, pushing her shoulders so hard that she rolls off the bed and into the floor with a thump. 

"What's going on?" She asks from the floor, immediately alert and pulling a worn pair of jean shorts over her bare legs. 

"It's Derek," Malia says, grabbing the keys to Allison's car and starting toward the door as her girlfriend hops along behind her, one foot in the air while she struggles to zip her boot. 

"He's dying," Allison deadpans, flinging open her car door and catching the keys when Malia tosses them to her. 

Allison's phone rings seconds after the couple peels out of the parking deck. Malia tugs it out of Allison's pocket with practiced ease and sets it to speaker phone. 

"Lydia?" 

"Allison," Lydia's voice sounds strained, and a hiccuped sob escapes her before she continues, "it-it's Derek. You have to get here yesterday, Allison, it's _bad_ and neither of us know what to do and-" 

"Lydia, who else is there with you? Are you still at the lake house?" Allison interrupts cooly, her voice the impassive stone Malia remembers from when they first met. She's never been so grateful for this calm until now. 

"Yes, yes we're at the lake house, Stiles is here with me and we were trying to use my grandmother's soundproof room again, but someone knew we were here and they hurt Derek and - and, Allison, he's barley breathing and Stiles says he can practically _feel him dying_ , and I can feel it twice fold, just tell me what to do, Allison-" 

"Breathe, Lydia. Tell me exactly what happened to him." 

"It's some type of wolfsbane," Stiles shouts from the background, "and it's way too close to his heart for my comfort, so try not to let our boyfriend die, yeah guys?" 

"You've got it, Stiles. Just stay on the line until we get there, okay?" 

Allison's voice is soothing enough, but Malia knows by her steadily tightening grip on the steering wheel that it won't be enough. They're going to be too late. 

That fact almost causes Malia to throw up, but despite the tremors now shuddering along her frame, she manages to find her voice. 

"Allison, pull over," she whispers, resolve strengthening by the second. She will not let any more of her family die. 

Allison hesitates, yet chances a look at Malia out if her peripheral and makes up her mind. The car glides to a firm stop and Malia throws herself out of the car instantly, throwing her head back, her soul into the earth, and howling. 

Even to her own ears the noise sounds pitiful, a cry of anguish and desperation echoing through the town. She pauses, waiting for a reaction, but receives none. Which is probably for the best, if the person she intended to hear that received the message, both she and her pack would be focusing all their energy on reaching the lake house as soon as possible. 

"Will it work?" Allison asks once Malia has returned to her passenger seat and they hit the road once more. She doesn't even attempt to fully understand the motivations of her werecoyote girlfriend at present time. For now she seems firmly set in Hunter Matriarch mode. 

"Hopefully," Malia replies. She can hear the panicked murmurs of Stiles and Lydia on the other line, whispering soothing things and regularly reporting that he still has a pulse. 

*** 

By the time Allison and Malia arrive at the lake house, Stiles and Lydia have already hung up the phone five minutes prior after Derek's pulse slowed to an impossible pace. Malia had called back several times, but no one answered. Allison yanks the car door open and runs into the house as soon as she hits the breaks. Malia isn't far behind her. 

She almost rips the door off its hinges as she stumbles into the living room to find a sight which leaves her both breathless in relief, and tense as the weight of their actions fully comes down upon her. 

In the center of the room is Derek, laying on the coffee table and looking worse for wear, but nevertheless alive. Stiles is clinging to his torso, face buried in the crook of his neck, while Lydia is digging her nails into his arm in a way that must be painful, clutching him as if he were her lifeline. Unlike Stiles, Lydia's head remains upright and her posture alert, stiffly regarding the wolves surrounding her. 

Nearly twenty werewolves surround the trio, each in their human form and each wearing black windbreakers drenched from the rain Allison hadn't even realized was falling until this moment. The one at the center, shorter than the rest and definitely older, steps forward. 

"Allison Argent, Matriarch," she greets, not making a move to express welcome of any sort, "My name is Satomi, and this is my pack." 

From behind her, Allison can feel Malia inch protectively closer, resting her hand at the small of Allison's back. "My name is Malia. I believe we've met before." 

Satomi nods, an interested glint sparking in her dark eyes. "You are the one who called for me. I remember you. A young coyote overcome by grief. I am glad you've found your place in this world, little one." 

Malia blinks quickly several times, startled, yet gives the alpha a shaky smile. "Thank you." 

Satomi returns the nod and directs her gaze to Allison once more. "You should call your alpha. We have some things to discuss." 

*** 

Kira hugs Derek for a full seven minutes before drawing back and smacking him upside the head, adding a little shock for added effect. 

"You dumbass!" She lits, ignoring the glare Derek shoots her as he rubs the back of his head, "You could've died! From now on we're all carrying emergency wolfsbane lighters, it's way more practical than the leather jackets." 

"She's got a point," Malia says from her perch on the arm of Stiles' couch, picking lint from her claws delicately. 

"Who's side are you on?" Derek growls, turning to glare at Malia instead. 

"We're all on the side that keeps you alive for the longest amount of time," Lydia says stiffly, gaze locked on her hands, which are clutching the blanket surrounding her and Stiles on the floor tightly. 

Derek's gaze immediately softens and he settles next to her, kissing her lightly before enveloping her in a crushing hug. 

"I know," he murmurs, and she relaxes minimally, even more so when Stiles shifts so that her legs are propped in his lap. 

"Yo, McCall, go put in The Notebook, yeah?" Isaac calls from his bundle of blankets on the couch. 

"Who's exactly the alpha in this scenario?" Scott teases, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn that he sets atop Isaac's blanket mountain. 

"You're the one who insists on a democratic process," Isaac counters as Kira plops on the cushion next to him, burrowing under a few of the blankets and stealing a handful of popcorn. Allison laughs at the sudden jostle of the couch and nudges Kira into Isaac's side. She makes a spluttering noise of surprise and kicks Allison's shin lightly before curling up on the cushion, Scott settling down between them and pressing play. 

Within the first five minutes of the movie, Allison tugs Malia from the arm of the couch and into her lap, arranging their limbs comfortably and testing the limits of the small couch. 

"If that couch breaks, you're buying me a new one, Argent." Stiles threatens from the floor, voice muffled by Lydia's hair. Allison does not even know how those three managed to get in the position they are but it most certainly does not look comfortable. 

"We'll all chip in," Kira chirps, "we might even if it doesn't break first. It _is_ kind of flimsy." 

"Them be fightin' words, Yukimura." 

Kira laughs lightly even as Lydia kisses Stiles into shushing. 

*** 

In the end it's Stiles who finds the source of the deadpool. 

Not even through some kind of grand revelation or epiphany. He actually manages to trip while in the lake house with Derek, Kira, and Lydia. In his descent into the carpet, he accidently unplugs the cord for the record player. When both Derek and Lydia realize they can still hear the white noise, Derek immediately wants to knock down the drywall to see what lays underneath, and Lydia's first instinct is to preserve the lake house her mother has been trying to sell. While they bicker back and forth, Kira slices a neat line down the wall, and reveals the source of the deadpool. 

From there it's a simple matter of fitting a key into a lock and disabling the attempts on their lives. 

*** 

"That was anticlimatic," Malia criticizes. 

Allison raises her eyebrow questioningly. "What did you expect? A dramatic showdown and cut to me almost bleeding out in your arms, paired with a tear jerking soundtrack and untimely declarations of love?" 

Malia shoots Allison a look that very clearly states _'you are being a dumbass'_. "Of course not, especially not that part about you bleeding out. I could have led the rest of my life without that image." 

Allison nods sympathetically. It wasn't too pretty of a mental image for her either, if she's honest. 

"I just would have liked to punch some of the assassins in the face, is all. For the pure satisfaction of it." 

Allison laughs and nudges Malia from her spot on the bed. She falls ungracefully to the floor and glares at her girlfriend when Allison pokes her head over the side of the mattress to look down at her. 

The longer Malia maintains eye contact with Allison's joy filled expression the more her gaze softens, until she's pulling Allison forward and kissing her breathless. 

"We don't need near death experiences for love confessions. I love you," Malia murmurs against Allison's lips, smiling at the sharp intake of breath she can feel Allison take. 

"Cool," Allison breathes reverently, pulling Malia in once more.


End file.
